Babylon
by Jo7
Summary: -Chapter 4 uploaded- Carter works through his feelings after the death of his son.
1. Friday Night

**Title:** "Babylon" 

**Rating:** PG 

**Spoilers:** None, as long as you've seen up to and including 10.21, "Midnight" 

**Summary:** Carter works through his feelings after the death of his son. 

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, as usual. 

**Author's Note:** I started this on Wednesday, I think, before Midnight aired. So the first chapter and a half was written without knowing exactly how it would go. I think it could still fit, though. Anyway, I have no idea how the show's actually going to go, since I don't read spoilers (found out about the baby by mistake...was very annoyed). But this is my little take on it, inspired by the song "Babylon" by David Gray. Sliding Doors will probably be updated tomorrow or Tuesday, but I wanted to start posting this now. This is going to be a 4 part little thing, so stay tuned for the next parts! I would love to know what you think. :) Thanks! Jo xx 

**"Friday Night"**

_Friday night I'm going nowhere,   
All the lights are changing green to red.   
Turning over TV stations,   
Situations running through my head.   
Well looking back through time   
You know it's clear that I've been blind.   
I've been a fool   
To ever open up my heart   
To all that jealousy, that bitterness, that ridicule._

--- 

I watch my son playing in the grass of our backyard. He laughs loudly, throwing a cheeky grin in my direction as he runs towards the sandpit. In his haste he loses his footing, falling flat on the muddy ground. He screws his face up, and I know it's only moments until the loud cries begin. But before I know it a pair of loving arms reach down and scoop the two year old up, holding him close. I watch him bury his head in her chest, whimpering slightly. She rubs his back soothingly, and when I look up towards her I see the gentle, caring look in her eyes that only a mother can have. She places a kiss on the top of his head before looking up at me and grinning. This is what we imagined. And I'm truly happy. As the small cries subside, she whispers something in our son's ear, before putting him back down on the ground. I see the muddy streaks up his dungarees, and as I look up she points to the matching muddy marks down her clean white shirt, laughing. Her eyes sparkle as she laughs, and I can't help but grin back at her. My goodness, I love her. I look back down to see our son charging towards me, arms wide open for a hug. In just seconds I'll have the same muddy mark down my t-shirt, but instead of worrying I laugh like her, and pull him into a tight hug, holding him to me. "Love Daddy," he tells me, looking up with a grin on his face. I love you too, son, I love both of you so much. 

I open my eyes as I feel the warm trickle of a tear down my cheek. Every time I close my eyes I see it all, so clearly. Never the same situation twice, the only common element is the two of them, grinning and laughing. And for a moment I feel so complete, as I image the life I could have had. But then as reality sinks in the pain I feel is unbearable. I'm far from being sat in a sunny garden playing with my son. The rain is lashing against the windows of the empty house that should be our home, as I sit in the middle of an empty nursery. Everything is so empty. My arms feel empty from not being able to hold him in them. Every ounce of me aches for what I lost before I even really had it. 

I've tried watching the TV, but each scene just blurs into the next, each programme into the next. Every image I see through my tears is just a wash of colours that mean nothing to me. Just like everything else that is happening around me means nothing to me. I feel lost and alone. Sitting here in the nursery makes me feel a little closer to him, as I see the crib, and look at the bright pictures of the jungle painted on the wall. I smile as I remember my mad panic to get them finished in time. There's at least a little satisfaction in realising I did, before it sets in that it doesn't matter whether it's finished or not. He's gone, and he's never coming back. This is all worthless. Every little bit of it. My whole life is worthless. 

I get up from my spot on the floor, and angrily rip a sheet of the wallpaper, watching as tigers and elephants fall down into my hands. There's an initial delight in the feeling of doing this, some sort of release from all the pain and anger I'm feeling. But then as I look down at the bright colours I realise that I just removed something that was supposed to be his from my life. I'm already forgetting about him. Every moment and every thought is filled with him, but I forgot him in that one second. And the guilt I feel is overwhelming. 

I throw the wallpaper across the room, and slowly sink down to the floor again. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry that I failed you as a father. I'm sorry that there was nothing I could do to help you, that you never got a chance to know us, or us you. And I'll always love you. I don't want to ever forget you. 

She's still at the hospital. I know I should be with her, that we should be grieving together for our son. But what am I supposed to say to her? That I'm sorry I didn't realise sooner that something was wrong? I'm sorry that I didn't take better care of her? It's too painful to be there. To walk along corridors past rooms with mothers nursing their babies. I can't face seeing her eyes puffy from crying, and have to hold her and tell me it'll all be fine in the end. It's selfish, I know, and I feel enormously guilty for the way I'm acting. She needs me. I'm abandoning her, letting her down. Like I let my son down by letting him die. 

--- 

Once again I'm sat alone in the nursery, staring at the blank piece of wall that I created in my anger a week ago. The tears have finally dried up, and now I feel numb and alone. Like I have nothing in the world. 

"John!" Her voice drifts through from the kitchen, but I can't bring myself to respond. What's the point? There's nothing to say. "John." This time her voice is closer: she's standing in the doorway of the nursery watching me. "Are you okay?" I shrug, not looking at her. "Do you want a coffee?" Once again I shrug. I don't want a coffee, I want my son. The one thing I can't have. "John, talk to me." I look up and see her eyes filled with tears. She looks exhausted, emotionally and physically. She's hurting too. But for some reason I can't see past my own agony. 

"I can't do this," I tell her, looking down at the floor. 

"Can't do what?" she asks as I lift myself off the floor. 

"This room's so empty," I continue, ignoring her question. "Everything's empty. There's no point anymore." I slip past her out of the door, and make my way downstairs to the kitchen where I begin to pour the coffee she's already made. 

"John?" She hurries after me, her voice anxious. I know she's worried about me, about what I might do. But she has absolutely no idea, really. She doesn't know how I've reacted to death before, what it's done to me. She can never understand. 

"Do you want one or two sugars?" 

"I don't take sugar. John, please, talk to me. How are we meant to get through this if we don't talk?" I shrug, not knowing how to answer. Not wanting to talk. When she speaks again I can tell she's trying to hold back tears. "You're making this so much harder for me John. I think I've managed to compose myself, stop feeling so distraught, and then I turn round and see you like that, and all the feelings come flooding back. I need to get on with my life, you're not making it easy." 

"Well, maybe I don't want to get on with my life, or stop feeling distraught," I retort angrily. "Because when that happens, it feels like I'll have forgotten him. And I don't want to ever forget." I thrust the mug of coffee into her hands, and turn to leave the room. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I don't know," I respond, grabbing the keys for my jeep as she rushes out into the hallway. 

"When will you be back?" I shrug. "Will you be back?" 

"You said it yourself Kem, this will be easier for you if I'm not around to upset you." She opens her mouth to say something, but obviously can't think of the right thing to say. "I really do feel bad that I can't comfort and help you in the way you need. But I think you can do that better for yourself. If you want me to stay, just say the words. But..." I take a deep breath as I reach what I now realise is the heart of the problem, and has been since long before we lost our son. "But we don't have the baby anymore. Things are different." She nods her understanding, and steps towards me, placing a short and sweet kiss on my lips. 

"Thank you. I'll miss you. We had fun." She steps back and watches me with tears in her eyes once more. 

"I'll miss you too." I give her a weak smile, before turning and walking out of the house and getting into the jeep. Once I'm safely inside I look back towards the house and sigh. I realise I'm doing exactly what I accused someone else of once, and have now become very good at myself. I'm running. 

--- 


	2. Saturday

Author's note: Thank you for the reviews. :) Anna - I'm sorry you don't like the way I wrote Kem. I didn't want her to come across as uncaring, my aim was to show how hard this really is on her, and that Carter was making it worse when she really needed him to be there for her. I'm sorry she didn't come across like that, I'll have to take a look at how I wrote her. Hopefully this chapter will be more to your liking. :) I hope every likes it, I would love to know what you think. Jo xx 

**Saturday**

_Saturday I'm running wild   
And all the lights are changing red to green.   
Moving through the crowd I'm pushing   
Chemicals all rushing through my bloodstream.   
Only wish that you were here   
You know I'm seeing it so clear.   
I've been afraid   
To tell you how I really feel   
Admit to some of those bad mistakes I've made._

--- 

I start the engine of the jeep, and just drive. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm going to do when I get there, I just have to be somewhere else, away from everything that's happened. I finally pull into a side road and stop the jeep. I stare out of the windscreen into the dark street, lost in thought. I ran, and I ran, and now I have no idea where I am. Except I didn't know where I was before, either. Maybe I learnt more off Abby than I realised. And it seems she stopped running. Strange, how roles are reversed like this. 

Glancing at my watch I realise I had been driving for at least an hour. I don't know where I am, or how to get home. Or even where my home actually is. It seems pointless to find my way back there, and then have no where to stay. I decide I may as well take another leaf out of her book... 

--- 

The bottom of the pint glass stares up at me, the final drops of beer floating around in the bottom. I tell myself I'm not drowning my sorrows. Three glasses isn't drowning your sorrows. "Another?" the bartender asks, and I give him a nod. Four glasses. It's just a social drink, I tell myself. I try to ignore the fact that a social drink usually means you're with other people. I try to ignore the fact that social drinking was exactly what I told her would lead her back to her problem. It's only now that I fully realise what a hypocrite I am. And what a jerk. 

"Wow, looks pretty heavy," someone remarks, and it's a moment before I realise he's talking to me. 

"Pardon?" 

"You look pretty down about something. Looks pretty big," he explains. 

"Oh." I just shrug, unwilling to share the information. 

"You want to talk about it?" 

"Not really." I try to give him a friendly smile, but it doesn't quite turn out right, and he gives me a concerned look. The bartender passes my beer over, and I take it as the other man orders one of his own. 

"You know, my wife's just left me after twenty years of what I thought was perfect marriage, for a man ten years younger. And I'm the one who has to pay up the divorce settlement." 

"I'm sorry," I say, trying to muster some sympathy for him. 

"Can you beat it?" 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"Well, I'd say that's a pretty rotten thing to happen. Can you beat it?" I sigh. There is no way I'm going to get out of this place without divulging some sort of information. I take a moment debating whether to tell him the truth, or make up something. But nothing I can think of sounds convincing, and I get the feeling that he'll know when I'm telling the truth. 

"My son died. And I left the only woman I ever loved." There. Said it. He doesn't seem wholly satisfied with my answer though, and I know he'll have more questions for me. 

"I'm sorry, that must have been very hard for you. How old was he?" There's a sympathetic look in his eyes, and I feel like I can trust him with these personal details. Besides, no one here in the suburbs of Chicago knows me. 

"Newborn," I choke out. "I lost him before I even knew him." 

"That must be very hard. So why did you leave the girl?" he enquires. "Surely you need each other more than ever now?" 

"I needed her, and she wasn't there. She had other priorities, which came above me. And when she tried to talk to me and work things out, I pushed her away. And then I ran." 

"Did it occur to you that she might be hurting just as much about your son as you are, and just not feel able to express that to you?" What, is this man some sort of a counsellor? 

"Err, he's not her son. I left her a year ago. And screwed everything up." I cradle the beer in my hands, staring down into the undrunk liquid. If she could see me now, I know for sure that she wouldn't like the person she saw. 

"And you're with your son's mother now so you can't do anything about it?" 

"I think I left his mother." I shrug, not entirely sure what actually happened. "It was a sort of mutual decision. But I can't do anything about her because I screwed everything up." 

"Screwed it up how?" 

"I think running away, breaking up with her in a letter, getting someone else pregnant just about covers it." I sigh loudly. I am such a complete loser. No wonder I'm sitting here in a pub on the outskirts of Chicago, talking to a complete stranger. Surely none of my 'friends' want to know me. 

"Sounds to me like you've got some apologising to do," he remarks, and I know he's right. But not now. Not when it's all so painful, when I've just left someone else and lost something so precious. "Did you ever tell her how you felt?" 

"What?" 

"The love of your life. Did you say you loved her?" 

"No, I...I was scared of how she would react. She wasn't a very secure person." For the millionth time this evening I sigh. "And now she's completely turned her life around, without me, and I'm the insecure one. She's happy with herself, and I'm sitting here drowning my sorrows." I push the full pint glass away from me, turning away from it in disgust. 

"Wow, that's pretty mucked up." 

"Well, thanks for the support," I say sarcastically. 

"You've got to pull yourself together." 

"What?!" I exclaim, angry with him. How dare a complete stranger tell me something like that! 

"Honey, I'm ready to go!" a female voice calls, preventing him from responding. A woman of about the same age as my 'counsellor' appears, and wraps an arm around his shoulders. 

"This is my wife," he explains to me, before turning to her. "Go and wait in the car darling, I'll be there in just a moment." She gives him a quick peck on the cheek before leaving. 

"You said your wife left you for a man ten years younger." 

"I needed a way to get you to talk." He grins at me, and winks, before getting up from the barstool. "It was nice talking to you." And with that he walks away, leaving me staring after him in shock. I can't believe I just opened up to a complete stranger, especially one who could convincingly lie to me. 

Looking back to the beer I pushed away earlier I shake my head frustratedly, and get up to leave. This won't solve anything. 

Once back at the jeep I realise I shouldn't really drive. I get in and climb onto the back seat, pulling my jacket around me, hoping for a peaceful night's sleep. As I lie there in the cold jeep, I can't help but think how foolish I've been, today and in the past. It's stupid to be sleeping in a car next door to a pub in a Chicago suburb where I know nothing about crime levels. It's stupid to think that alcohol can solve anything. And I was stupid to run. Running from everything and anything became my speciality. But I don't want to run anymore. The only running I want to be doing is into her arms, or in the park with my child. 

--- 

I wake up the next morning, neck stiff from sleeping in the car. I rub it awkwardly as I sit up and look around me. It seems this Chicago suburb wasn't as dangerous as it could have been, and both I and my jeep are completely intact. Although I'm not quite sure of whether being fine is a relief or a pain in the ass. 

It takes me a moment to realise that I can't stay here, sat in the back seat of my jeep, forever. I hardly have a home to go to, but I know that wherever is my home now, it must be in Chicago. I've never known anything else. How did I fool myself that Kisangani could ever be anything near a home to me? Or that I could have a perfect little family. It was all so easy when I was sitting in a tent in the Congo, arm wrapped around a pregnant girlfriend. Nothing to challenge me, or scare me. Nothing to make me run. And now it seems that at the first sign of trouble I run every time. But not anymore, I resolve. Now I'm going back to Chicago, and I'm going to pull myself together. No more late night drives, or sessions at the bar. From now on my only resolution is to live my life how it should be, through good and bad. Not changing my mind about everything when one thing happens. 

Getting out of the jeep I turn to face the pub that I visited last night. Seems like as good a place as any to find directions back to Chicago. I walk determinedly back towards the pub, and push through the doors with what I hope is a confident look on my face. The place is pretty much deserted, as I would expect at this time of day. I begin to make my way to the bar, planning to ask the barman for directions. I just hope he doesn't remember me moping behind a beer last night. I can imagine him giving me a pitying look, like he thinks he knows how this feels. 

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Mr. Depressed again!" I turn around to see the man from last night sat at a table in the corner. He grins, waving me over. 

"Doctor, actually," I correct as I take a seat opposite him. Confidence is the key, I tell myself. If I can just be confident he'll see that last night was a slip up. A one off. 

"Okay, Dr. Depressed, what are you doing back here? Can I buy you a drink?" 

"No thanks, I have to drive back into Chicago today." 

"Ah, from the city are we? I should have known. Properly cut clothes, smart hair. You don't exactly look like a country boy." 

"No, I'm not. Was always more of a city person." 

"So where did you stay the night then? I'm guessing you didn't camp out in the fields round the back." 

"It doesn't matter, I slept." 

"In the car?" I stare at him, speechless. He seems to know everything: this man scares me. 

"Yes, as a matter of fact. But how do you know that?" 

"Lucky guess. Most depressed city people who turn up here downing pints end up in the back of their car." 

"So I'm not the first?" 

"And you won't be the last. Unfortunately city life seems to be pretty bad for some people." 

"Well, this will be the last time you see me. Like I said, I'm heading back to Chicago. I'm going to sort myself out, and never run away again, even when things get to their worst." 

"Find the girl?" I shake my head. As much as that is the one thing I want, I know I can't do it to her. I already hurt her once, she doesn't need me back straight out of another relationship. She wouldn't want it. Besides, I guess she has her biker guy. 

"That one will have to wait a while. But from now on I am going to pull myself together." I nod my head, resolutely, like I'm confirming it to myself. I will sort myself out. "Thank you for the talk last night." 

"My pleasure. What's life if we can't help a few people?" It strikes me that this is one of the places I went wrong. Helping people was what I did, as a doctor, but now I've managed to fail at helping people. It didn't occur to me before, but in the last few months my attitude with patients and staff alike has changed. And I don't like that change. "Now, I really must be going. More stories to hear, more people to help. If there's anything else I can do in the future, you know where to find me." He winks, and I'm unsure whether to be glad someone will be here for me, or scared by him. 

"There is one thing you can do before you leave. Do you know how to get back into Chicago?" 

--- 


	3. Sunday

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, and sorry I took so long to update! I think that's all I have to say! hehe! Hope you enjoy the new chapter. Just one more to go after this. Jo xx 

**Sunday**

_Sunday all the lights of London   
Shining, sky is fading red to blue.   
I'm kicking through the autumn leaves   
And wondering where it is you might be going to.   
Turning back for home   
You know I'm feeling so alone.   
I can't believe   
Climbing on the stair   
I turn around to see you smiling there   
In front of me._

--- 

I pull into the driveway of the mansion at around midday, and sigh sadly as I begin the long drive up to the house. When I reach it I sit in the jeep and stare at it. This is it: everything that I have. The house, the money. I guess that's what my life is now. This is what I always didn't want. But now there's some sort of comfort in knowing that at least it's not all gone. I still have the memory of Gamma, of Bobby, of all the fun I had here. 

As I get out of the car I realise what a mistake I made in wanting to sell the house. It holds too many memories, both good and bad. I wonder if it's too late to withdraw my offer of giving it away. Probably. I sigh sadly, knowing I am a complete fool, who obviously wasn't thinking a few months ago. 

I turn the key in the lock, and push the heavy door open, stepping into an empty hallway. There's no life in the house, everything feels so dreary and empty. When I allow the door to fall shut the hallway becomes dark, and even more lifeless. I throw open the shutters at the windows, and light floods the room. Smiling, I push my way into the kitchen to find something to eat: I don't think I had any food since this time yesterday, apart from some nibbles at the pub. Finding the fridge completely empty, I pick up the phone and order a pizza. The guy on the other end of the phone seems quite surprised when I tell him the address: what, does he think I'm too upper class to like pizza or something? 

While I wait for the pizza I make my way up to my bedroom, to see if I still have enough clothes and toiletries here to stay. If I don't, I think I'll be making a trip to the mall after lunch, because I really can't see how I could go back to the house and demand my stuff from Kem. Not after everything that happened between us. Thankfully I find an almost full drawer of clothes and underwear, and a spare toothbrush on the side in the bathroom. At least that's one less thing to worry about. 

As I come out of the en-suite bathroom I hear the doorbell ring. The pizza got here quickly! When I get downstairs there is a key lying on the doormat, with a bit of paper attached to it. I pick it up, and open the door to see a taxi halfway down the drive. As I close the door I glance down at the piece of paper, and realise what it is: to key to the house. 'Here's your key. Plane to Africa in 3 hours. Kem xx' That's really it then. I knew already that it was over, but now there's a real finality about it. And I don't know what to feel. I'm not distraught that she left me. Or did I leave her? I don't even remember the details of it. I'm not happy that I'm alone, but I'm glad I'm not fooling myself anymore. I don't think I'm fooling myself, anyway. In a way I feel guilty that I couldn't be the person she needed me to be, to help her get through losing our son. And I feel guilty that I don't miss her terribly. 

It strikes me that the situation is surprisingly similar to that of Abby and I last year. A death, not being there, running, hiding...Africa. Except somehow I think Kem won't be coming back with a pregnant girlfriend! I wonder what Abby's up to right now. Working? Studying? No, not studying, she graduated I remind myself. I'm so proud of her, that she sorted her life out like this. Makes me annoyed with myself though: it took me screwing up for her to do it, and I managed to make a mess of my life from it. 

I barely talked to Abby since he died. Barely talked to anyone. I can't quite face them, and their sympathetic smiles. She wouldn't be like that, I guess. But I'm worried about what she'll say. And I'm worried about what she'll say about me and Kem, now that it's over. I'm sure she must have never liked Kem, and yet she was always nice about her, asking me how she was doing, smiling and being friendly. I don't know if I would have been able to do that, were the roles reversed. 

The doorbell rings once again, and I receive and pay for my pizza, before moving into the kitchen ready to consume it. The smell of pepperoni and cheese begins to fill the room, and I lick my lips in anticipation. This looks good. I lift a slice out of the box, and stare at it greedily for a moment, before realising that won't satisfy my hunger, and raise it to my mouth... 

And the doorbell rings. What's up with that door today? I just came back here less than an hour ago, and this is the third time someone came here. Maybe I paid the wrong amount to the pizza boy. Reluctantly I put the pizza back in the box, and make my way to the front door. 

When I open it I'm so stunned I honestly don't have a word to say. 

"Hey," she says, smiling at me. I just stare back, blinking. What's she doing here? 

"Abby...?" 

"Yeah, that's me." She laughs awkwardly. "Could I come in?" 

"Sure, sure." I step aside and let her through the door, closing it behind her. "Do you want to come through to the kitchen? I just got a pizza." She follows me through and sits down at the table. "Help yourself," I say, in an attempt to be hospitable. 

"Thanks." She grabs a slice, as do I, and I finally get my food. 

"How did you know I was here?" I ask between mouthfuls. 

"Lucky guess." She smiles. "Or I know you too well. Or maybe both. I called your house, to see if you wanted to get a coffee today, talk about stuff. I thought you might need a friend." 

"Thank you." 

"Anyway, Kem told me what happened. So I guessed you were either working harder than you ought to, just to forget everything, or sitting here all alone." 

"You talked to Kem?" I ask, shocked. Abby was always civil to Kem, but I can't imagine why she would want to have a conversation with her. 

"Yeah. She sounded pretty upset. We talked about the baby, about you leaving. She says it's for the best, but...I told her she ought to try and work things out with you. I said she should come up here and see you." 

"It won't work out Abby, but thanks for trying." I'm truly touched. My ex-girlfriend is trying to fix my relationship problems. I knew she was an amazing person, but I didn't realise just how amazing. This is what a true friend is. 

"All I want is for you to be happy." 

"Well, it seems that that's not with Kem." I smile at her, before taking another piece of pizza. "Can we not talk about her anymore? I've been a complete idiot, I'd rather just forget about it." 

"Okay. Do you want to talk about the baby?" I stiffen. Yes, I want to talk about him so much. But it's too painful. I think about him every second, and that's painful enough already. To vocalise those thoughts would make it so much harder. "You know, however hard you think it will be to talk, it will probably make things a little easier if you share how you're feeling with someone." It's like she can read my thoughts. And I suddenly realise that means a lot to me. "If you don't want to talk to me, that's fine. Just talk to someone else." 

"No!" I say, a little too forcefully, and she looks slightly confused. "I mean...I don't want to talk to someone else. I'll talk to you." What am I doing? I have no idea, but it feels right. 

"Are you sure you're okay to talk?" She looks at me with compassion in her eyes. Not that pitying look that I dreaded from everyone, but a look which says 'I understand, I'm here'. And I really feel like I can open up to her about everything. 

"Yes. I...I really need a friend." 

"You've got one right here." She smiles at me once again, and I'm blown over by her generosity, and friendliness. If I didn't know before, or maybe didn't realise, I know now that I lost someone very special. And yet now she's willing to be my friend. 

"Thank you." I wait for her to ask me something, but she just sits and watches me. Waits for me to talk about it in my own time. "I...I don't know what to say," I begin, not knowing if there is any way to articulate how I'm feeling. The complete feeling of emptiness, the way my whole body aches from being so empty, the way my heart and mind are numb. 

"It's okay. Take your own time." I know right now that I have to tell her everything, every little detail of how I am feeling inside. Because she will understand, and I don't know how but in some way she will make it better. However hard it is to say, I need to explain. 

"Everything feels so empty. Like there's nothing there," I start, and look to her for reassurance that she's listening, knowing what I mean. She nods, willing me to go on. "I lost everything, and now I don't know how I can ever feel like I even have a part of that. There's no word to describe the emotion I'm feeling. Grieving doesn't cover it. Distraught sounds so dramatic. It's not dramatic, it's horrific. But horrific's not the right word. What I saw in Africa was horrific, this is..." I trail off, tears pricking in my eyes. 

"Heart breaking?" she tries, and I nod as the tears begin to fall. 

"Yeah, kind of. But it's not broken, it's more empty. Everything around me feels so empty. This stupid house is empty, my life is empty. I have nothing." 

"You've got friends." I smile at her, a genuine smile through my tears. A silent thank you to her. It all means so much. 

"He was so beautiful. He would have been breaking hearts all over town as a teenager." The statement chokes me: this was the first realisation I had that not only was my son dead, he would never grow up. Somehow it feels like two completely different things to me. And my heart has been ripped apart once again. "But he won't be a teenager. He'll never have a first girlfriend, never drive his first car. I'll never hear him say his first words, or take his first steps. I wanted so much to be a good father. And now I'll never be able to." 

"You will. One day." She places a hand over mine, and squeezes it gently. "You'll get through this. You'll find someone else, and you'll have another chance at a family. She's out there somewhere." 

"Yeah." I wipe away some tears with my free hand. "But I feel like if I get through this, it will mean I've forgotten him. And then I'll be betraying him." 

"That's not forgetting him. Everyone knows you'll love him forever, nothing will ever change that. You won't be betraying him by learning to deal with your grief. You really think your son would want to have a Dad who spends half his time crying, anyway?" she asks, and I grin at her half-hearted joke. "Not very macho, is it?" 

"Nope." I laugh slightly. "Whenever I close my eyes, I see him. Running around, smiling, laughing. We're never doing the same thing, but it's always me and him having fun. He'll fall over and get mud all over his dungarees, and come running towards me, arms wide open for a hug, just so he can get me dirty." I find myself smiling as I tell the story, as if I'm relaying an actual trip to the park with my son or something. "For a moment I feel so happy and so fulfilled. And then I open my eyes, and I realise I'll never play with him, and that will never happen. And it breaks my heart all over again, and I feel so empty." 

--- 


	4. Feel It Now

Author's Note: Thanks once again for your reviews! This is the final chapter - hope it does the rest of the fic justice...anyway, hope you enjoy! And I'd love to know what you've thought, as always. ;) Jo xx 

**Feel It Now**

_If you want it, come and get it   
Crying out loud.   
The love that I was giving you was   
Never in doubt.   
Let go your heart, let go your head   
And feel it now.   
Babylon, Babylon._

--- 

I watch the pained look on his face, wishing there was something I could say that would make it all okay. But as hard as I try, there don't seem to be the right words. What do you say to someone who lost their child? 'I'm so sorry about your baby. Did you see Friends last night?' Or maybe that is the way to go, just carry on with life as normal. I honestly don't know what's best. I wish I didn't have to be in this situation, but I have to be there for him. He's my best friend. 

I suddenly realise he's waiting for me to respond in some way to what he just said. What do I say to that? 'I'm sorry' feels so inadequate. And it feels false, somehow, to keep on telling him that he'll get through it. Especially when he revealed to me that getting through it is what scares him, in a way. I feel absolutely terrible that I don't know what to say, that I can't be the friend he needs me to be. After everything we've been through, surely we must have something to say to each other. 

"You're going to be okay," I finally say. The closeness of that comment to that event of two years ago doesn't miss me. And when he looks up at me I can tell he didn't miss it either. "Things look pretty crappy right now." I decide for the 'say what you mean' technique. "But things will get less crappy. That won't make what has happened less crappy, you just won't feel as crappy about it. And some days will be crappier than others, but you'll get through them and come out the other side knowing that, no matter what crap goes on, you still love your son, forever." I pause as I notice he is laughing at me. My words of wisdom seem to have been completely different to how I intended them. Thinking back over what I just said I start to laugh as well. Did I really say that? "Do you get the feeling I'm talking a load of crap?" 

"Yeah!" He continues to laugh, and that makes me smile. For a moment he looks happy. And it's good to see. Good to know that it's there, under all the grief and emptiness. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to come out like that. It was meant to be comforting, would you believe it." 

"Hard to believe," he laughs, and we both continue to giggle, despite what we have just been talking about, and what he has been pouring his heart out over. "Thank you." 

"It's okay. It was just pure chance that it was that amusing!" 

"No, I mean thank you for being here. For being such an amazing friend, and for not ditching me when I'm having a really bad time, even though really I deserve to be ditched." 

"No one deserves to be ditched by their friends. I wouldn't do that to you." 

"Yeah, but there's a difference between being a friend, and coming to my house and hearing me pour my heart out about all my problems when...well, when they probably hurt you in the first place. Thank you for that." I don't know what to say to that, and so I just nod, feeling tears glisten in my eyes. He's right, he hurt me. A lot. When he came back with Kem, and I discovered they were going to have a baby I thought my life was over. But I realised how far I'd come with my life while he was away, and I knew I couldn't forget all that. So I fought through, stayed positive. And came out the other end as a sober doctor. And now I know that what I felt when I found out about Kem and the baby was nothing compared with what he's going through. 

"I don't deserve you," he suddenly says, and I'm taken aback by the comment. Once again, I don't know what to say. He's really astounding me today. "I'm such a jerk." 

"No you're not, don't say that. You're grieving. You haven't done anything that makes you a jerk." 

"I'm not talking about now. I mean..." I nod, showing him I know what he's talking about. Yeah, he was a jerk. But he doesn't need to hear that right now, he needs to know that I'm his friend no matter what. "I'm sorry." 

"I know." He gives me a sad smile. 

"I missed you, Abby." 

"I know." I realise my hand is still over his, and I give it another gentle squeeze. "Me too." 

"We're going to be okay, yeah?" 

"Of course." He's looking at me in a way I didn't see in a while. There's a yearning in his eyes. And I know I should think that he's on the rebound from Kem, and is just looking for comfort. But I know he truly means it. "We'll always be best friends, right?" 

"Yeah." He nods, convinced. "And maybe more." 

"Let's just wait on that one." I smile warmly at him, letting him know that maybe one day we can have what we both want. Just not today. Not while he's still grieving. Once he's come to terms with his loss, that will be our time. And I know it's my job to help him do that. To bring him to a place where we're both ready. 

"Yeah." He understands, I can tell. And it's a comfort to me that we still know each other so well. "They gave me a lock of his hair," he says suddenly, going back to our previous subject. I'm not surprised, and I don't mind. I know that his son is on his mind the whole time. What sort of a father would he be if that weren't the case? "It's so dark and soft." 

"Baby hair is beautiful." 

"Yeah." He takes a moment, as if he is pondering something, before speaking up again. "Do you want to see it?" 

"His hair?" He nods. "Only if you want to share that with me." 

"Yeah, I do. It...it would mean a lot to me if you'd be willing to." 

"Of course." He smiles sadly, and gets up from the table, presumably to fetch the lock of hair that is his last physical connection to his son. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, realising what a huge thing it is for him to want to share with me. This was his son, he would be perfectly entitled to keep it to himself as a private memory between him and his son. But he wants to share it with me. As I wait for him to return I close my eyes, and let my mind wander. 

I watch my son playing in the grass of our backyard. He laughs loudly, throwing a cheeky grin in his father's direction as he runs towards the sandpit. In his haste he loses his footing, falling flat on the muddy ground. He screws his face up, and I know it's only moments until the loud cries begin. Quickly I scoop him up into my arms, holding him tightly to me. He buries his head in my chest, whimpering slightly. As I hold him I rub his back soothingly, trying to quiet the cries, and place a soft kiss on the top of his head. I look up at his father and grin. This is what we imagined. And I'm truly happy. As the small cries subside, I whisper gently in his ear. "Why don't you go and give Daddy a hug and tell him how much you love him?" When I set him down on the ground he looks up at me, as if to check with me that it really is okay. I nod, and watch him run off across the lawn. I point to the muddy streaks down my white shirt and laugh as I see the realisation on his face that he's going to get just as dirty from our son's muddy dungarees. He grins at me, and I know that I will never love anyone this much. I watch as my son runs into his father's arms, and they wrap each other up in a huge hug. After a moment he looks up at his father and grins, before saying something, and I know he's relaying the message of love that I told him to give. Carter looks over at me and his smile broadens. He mouths "I love you" to me, and I grin back at him, before making my way across the garden to my two boys. Carter wraps an arm around me and pulls me into a three-way hug, giving me a quick but loving kiss. "I love you too," I tell him, smiling. "Love Mummy. Love Daddy," our son announces, and if at all possible both of our smiles grow even bigger. I love you too, sweetie, I love both of you so much. 

--- 


End file.
